Careful What You Wish
by missionYCO
Summary: Nobody knows that magic shouldn't be messed with more than the Winchester brothers. Someone in the small Nebraska town of Newford doesn't know that though. Now strange things are happening, and the Winchesters get caught up in it all.
1. Chapter 1

"Hey Dean, look at this." Sam thrust a newspaper into Dean's line of sight. The older Winchester leaned back in his chair so that he could see the entire paper instead of just the small portion that ended up in his vision when Sam tried to put the newspaper between Dean and his laptop.

"Two Weeks Before Valentine's Day, Newford Has Gone Love-Crazy." Dean read the headline out-loud. He looked up at Sam, draping his arm over the back of the chair as he turned to face his brother.

"So? Lots of people hook up around Valentine's Day."

Sam scoffed, pointing to part of the article itself. "Priest seduces nun. Elderly man hits on his nanny. 14 year-old girl tries to get her history teacher to make out with her in a storage closet. This isn't _normal_ Valentine's Day activity, Dean. It sounds like something is up." He eyed Dean, waiting to see if he would agree with him.

"What do you think? Magic? Fairies?" A pause, "Cupids Gone Wild?" Dean chuckled at his own joke. Sam ignored him, shaking his head in disagreement as he took a step back to lean against the TV stand, crossing his arms in the process.

"I have no idea. I can't imagine someone intentionally doing his. I mean, what would be the point?"

"Ah come on Sammy," Dean grinned suggestively, his eyebrows waggling. "Maybe someone just wants an entire town to loosen up. Ya know, have a little fun."

Sam groaned at his brother's antics, standing back up and moving to the back of the motel room to pack up. Dean chuckled at Sam's predictable reaction and turned back to his laptop to shut it down.

* * *

><p>Dean slowed the Impala as they entered Newford, Nebraska. He eyed the town with distain. There probably wasn't a single building built in the last century, the town had one main road, and everyone looked as though they were extras for a film set in the 50's.<p>

"What is with this place?" He glanced at the map Sam was studying. "Come on, it's not even on the map!"

"Small town charm, I guess. Hey look," Sam pointed across Dean at a small building on the other side of the main street. "They have a dedicated pie shop. Maybe this is your kind of place after all." He gave Dean a teasingly mocking smile.

"Yeah, well... this place still gives me the creeps." Dean continued to eye the town with distain as they advanced down the main street.

* * *

><p>Newford had exactly one inn, but since the town wasn't exactly a tourist attraction the boys had no trouble getting a room. Dean followed after Sam, slowing to a halt as he took in the room they would be in.<p>

"You've got to be kidding me..." From the bedding to the lamps, everything was done in pastel tones, faded flowers dotting the yellow wallpaper. Dean threw his bag down onto the bed closest the door, using with more force than necessary, and finally looked away from the rest of the room long enough to notice the carpet. He looked up at Sam with a pained expression.

"Dude. Pink?" He shook his head, turning away and dropping his other bag onto the bed. "This is just wrong... there's not even a TV!" He gestured towards the wall opposite the beds to emphasize his point.

Sam was laughing at his displeasure as he unpacked his own bags on the other bed.

"I'm going to go get me some of that pie. Take my mind off of this... _room_." Dean grimaced as he looked around their temporary residence again before heading out the door.

* * *

><p>A bell above the door chimed as Dean entered the pie shop. Delicious scents greeted him long before the chipper young blonde behind the counter did.<p>

"Good afternoon! Can I interest you in our Pie of the Day?" She bounced slightly as she talked. Dean knew she was someone who would get annoying after a while, but as he looked her over he figured it might be worth it anyway. He leaned on the counter, grinning slyly at the woman. She blushed as Dean moved up far closer than was necessary.

"I'd love your Pie of the Day." He said suggestively. The woman sputtered and blushed deeper. Dean stood up straight again, giving the poor girl a break. "What flavour is it?" He winked, still flirting.

"A...apple." She stuttered.

"Mm. That sounds good to me." He grinned shamelessly at the woman again. He had flustered her so much that she was barely able to box up his pie without dropping it, and she did manage to drop some of Dean's money as he handed it to her. He might come back later, but Sammy'd nag him if he didn't get back to the inn soon. He had no trouble getting her number, however.

* * *

><p>Sam looked up from his laptop as Dean re-entered their room. In one hand he held up a decorative cardboard box, the smell of pie wafting from it, and a small strip of paper with a hastily scrawled number in the other hand, a satisfied grin on his face.<p>

"Hey, come here." Sam called, choosing to ignore both the pie and the fact that he would probably be sleeping in the Impala tonight.

Dean put the pie box on the small table near the window, pocketing the piece of paper as he sat on the end of the bed next to Sam. Sam tilted the laptop so Dean could see it.

"I was looking into the town. While Newford isn't on anything but local obscure maps, and usually lives a fairly independent existence, two recent events have put the town into local papers."

Dean nudged Sam. "Everyone acting like love-sick puppies is one, right?" He grinned enthusiastically. His smile faded away as Sam ignored his antics. Dean cleared his throat and licked his lips, brows furrowing as he re-focused on the laptop screen.

"Before the recent influx of romance, Newford ended up in the papers a few months back when they had an abnormally large apple harvest. Charles Smith, who owns all of the apple orchards here, or owned, seeing as he died a few weeks ago, said 'they got lucky'. And—" Sam held up a hand to stop Dean from talking. "Don't say it." Dean frowned at him.

"What? I wasn't going to say anything." He played innocent, grinning to himself over what would have been an awesome line.

* * *

><p>The sun had long since set and the boys finally made it back to their room after having questioned everyone they could connect to the odd romances, and then some. No one they talked to could agree on what was going on and they heard everything from demon possession to something in the water. Sam dropped on to his bed, sighing in frustration.<p>

"I have no idea what's going on here, Dean. Half the town doesn't even think anything _is_ going on."

Dean mumbled an unintelligible response, only half listening. The apple pie sitting on the table was calling his name, and there was no way he was going to bed without responding to its beckon. Sam turned to face him to see what was taking up all of his attention.

"Alright, you have your moment with your pie. I'm beat, I'm going to bed." Sam was tired, and he was hoping if he could get to bed quick enough Dean might not kick him out to have a quick romp with whichever girl he decided was flirty enough when they went around earlier. Dean mumbled his acknowledgement, leaving Sam to roll over and attempt to bury his head under his pillow as Dean made appreciative noises towards his pie.

* * *

><p>Dean was still asleep when Sam woke up, the pie box sitting empty on the table, so he hopped into the shower thinking Dean would be awake when he got out. If he wasn't, Sam could just flick water at him until he did wake up. He grinned as he turned off the shower, secretly hoping Dean was still asleep so he could enact some small form of revenge for all the noise Dean made last night eating that damn pie of his.<p>

He exited the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist as he used another to pat down his hair. He was disappointed to find Dean stirring, the older Winchester cracking open a single eye as Sam moved across the room. Dean mumbled something incoherent, his gaze lingering on Sam for a moment before he rolled out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom, the door failing to be shut entirely. Sam headed over to his laptop as the shower turned on.

A local news heading caught his attention just as Dean was exiting the bathroom.

"Check this out." Sam leaned back from his laptop so Dean could read the screen, but Dean hadn't made any attempt to walk over.

"Why aren't you dressed yet?"

Sam looked down at himself, still draped in just a towel. He looked back at Dean, shrugging. "I was reading the news. Are you going to come read this or not?"

"Unlike someone, I'm getting ready. Just read it out-loud." Dean pilfered through his clothes, trying to find the articles of clothing he needed. Sam sighed.

"Alright. So, there have been some strange deaths in town. Charles Smith, the guy who owned the apple orchards? He died about a week after the big harvest." Sam looked at Dean pointedly, but his brother was still digging through his clothes. This is why Sam always put his up when they were staying in a town; he could always find what he needed.

"Mr. Smith choked to death. _On an apple_."

"So? Lots of people choke on food. That a guy who grew apples for a living choked on one just seems inevitable." Dean looked up, facing the wall. "Maybe poetic." He shrugged, focusing on his clothes again.

"Yeah, fine, but then there was _another_ death, discovered last night. One of the people involved in the recent romance spree... seems to be the first, actually. Guess how he died?"

"Too much lovin'? Heh, not a bad way to go out, if I do say so myself." Dean waggled his eyebrows.

"Not exactly. His heart exploded. His _heart_, Dean."

Dean finally looked at Sam finally, brows furrowed together. "What, like a heart-attack?"

Sam shook his head. "No, like pulverized." Sam made an explosion motion with his hands to emphasize. After a moment, Dean shrugged, turning back to his clothes.

"Alright, so that is weird. But what does that have to do with mister should-have-chewed-better?"

"The guy who died last night? He is, _or was_, Charles Smith's son. They ran the orchards together."

Dean looked up again, having finally found the one button-up shirt he owned. "Someone out to get the family? Shut down the orchard maybe?"

"Don't know, _but_ there's still one more surviving member of the family. The late Charles Smith's wife."

Dean nodded at Sam, heading off into the bathroom to put on his clothes. "Well let's go talk to the old gal then." He paused, partially inside the bathroom. "And Sammy? Get dressed."


	2. Chapter 2

Dean was acting odd ever since he got out of the shower, avoiding Sam's gaze and intentionally keeping distance between, even going so far as to walk ahead of him. He sat opposite the younger Winchester when they started talking to the widow of Charles Smith, who was now the only owner of the apple orchards. The brothers were posing as reporters for an agriculture magazine.

"We're sorry for your loss, Mrs. Smith." Sam said quietly, a sympathetic express across his face. Mrs. Smith nodded.

"Please, just Betty is fine. It's been several months now and it gets better every day, you know."

Sam glanced over at Dean. He had been gone for several months too, and it had only gotten worse for Sam. He wondered if Betty was trying to convince herself.

Sam shifted in his seat, turning back to face Betty. "I understand your husband died shortly after the harvest?"

"Oh yes, not very long after at all. It was all very tragic, the way it happened..." Her eyes lit up. "But I had my son, George, and Molly to help me out and make it all much more bearable."

Sam frowned. "Who's Molly?"

"Such a nice young lady, moved her just before the harvest happened actually."

"Did she work for your husband?"

"Why yes, she did." Betty frowned, looking between the two brothers. "You aren't suggesting she's involved, are you?"

Sam held his hands out in defence. "No, no of course not. If... if she worked for your husband, she might be able to give us another angle on him, for the article." He smiled, and after a moment Betty smiled as well.

"Yes, of course." She grabbed a piece of paper from the table next to her and started writing down an address. "Here, let me get you her contact information. She was very fond of my husband; I'm sure she'd love to tell you about him."

Sam's smile broadened. "That'd be great, thank you."

"God you're beautiful..." Dean suddenly blurted out, drawing the attention of the other occupants of the room. Sam's expression turned to confusion when he realized his brother was starting straight at him. He shot Dean a look, silently asking him what the hell he was doing. Dean seemed to snap out of his stupor, his eyes darting between Sam and Betty as they waited for him to explain himself.

"Uh... yeah." He cleared his throat. "Betty, you're beautiful." He shot her his best smile. "In your picture... uh, over there..." Dean trailed off, pointing to a framed image of Betty and her son sitting on the mantel behind Sam, his other hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck. The image couldn't have been more than a couple years old, and Mrs. Smith was at least seventy _now_. Sam knew Dean was a hound, but he'd never gone for little old ladies before. Dean looked everywhere but Sam to avoid his questioning glare.

"O-oh. Why thank you young man." Betty blushed, grinning like a young school girl. She walked over to the image, picking it up and gently rubbing the frame. She set the image back down after a moment and faced the boys again. Sam turned his attention back to her, reminding himself to badger Dean about his odd behaviour later.

"Well, thank you for your time Betty, unfortunately we've got to be going now." Sam said, glaring briefly at Dean again. Dean caught the look, his eyes widening momentarily before shooting his own glare back. Sam could be a pain in the ass when he wanted to be.

"I've just had some pie delivered this morning! Won't you stay and have a slice? It's apple." She said in a sing-song voice. Sam could see she just wanted the company, but his brother was acting odd and they still had a case to deal with. He started to shake his head, but Dean was immediately moving for the kitchen, his expression one of relief.

"Yes, I would _love_ some pie."

Sam grabbed his arm to prevent him from following Betty, ignoring the fact that Dean flinched at the action.

"That's alright Betty, I'm afraid we really have to go. But thank you very much for your time." Sam had to all but drag Dean from the house, finally letting go of his arm once they were outside. Dean took off down the steps, heading back towards the inn as quickly as possible. Sam caught up quickly, taking advantage of his longer stride.

"What was that back there?" He questioned once he caught up with Dean. The older Winchester avoided looking at him.

"What? I love pie."

Sam sighed in frustration. "You know what I mean." He looked around, whispered "Randomly spouting 'you're beautiful'?"

Dean cleared his throat. "What can I say? I appreciate a mature woman."

Sam stepped in front of him, stopping his advance. "Dean, you've been acting weird all day, and now you're mumbling out weird things." Sam looked around, pausing to let someone go by before speaking again. "I know you weren't talking about that picture." He stared his older brother down, a task nearly impossible since Dean was currently very fascinated with a street sign a few feet away. "Are you alright?"

Dean finally looked up at Sam, his expression dark for a moment before a small grin appeared on his face. "Yeah, I'm alright Sammy. Just tired, ya know?" He faked a yawn. "I think I'll take a nap. Probably do me good." He patted Sam briefly on the shoulder before stepping around him and continuing towards the inn. Sam sighed, following after his brother. Something was definitely up and he was going to find out what, whether Dean wanted him to or not.

* * *

><p>True to his word, Dean jumped into bed the moment they were back at the inn, mumbling a quick 'Night Sammy' before rolling over and drifting off. Sam sighed, sitting heavily in the chair by the window. He stared at the back of Dean's head for a while, thinking about all the possibilities as to why he could be acting so weird. Eventually he ran out of ideas and started to get up so he could get his laptop to kill time until Dean woke back up, but in the process he ended up knocking the pie box off the tiny table and onto the floor. His stomach lurched as he missed catching the box, but he sighed in relief when the box didn't pop open and spill pie crumbs everywhere when it landed.<p>

He went to pick the box up but stopped suddenly, the apples plastered all over it reminding him of Molly. She seemed connected to all of the events in Newford. If Dean had been affected by whatever was going on, she'd be the best bet to finding out. Sam stood back up, leaving the pie box on the floor. He grabbed his jacket, sparing one last look at Dean before heading out of the room.

* * *

><p>Sam pounded on the door again. He had heard movement before he began knocking, but now the house was silent.<p>

"Molly Pallino? I just want to talk to you for a moment. I'm a reporter; I'm covering the agriculture of your town, specifically the apple orchards, and I'd really like your insight. I understand you worked for Mr. Smith?" He waited a moment more, ready to pick the lock when suddenly the bolt was turned and the door slowly creaked open. A young woman with flaming red hair peered out cautiously, looking around Sam as if she expected him to have a hoard of people with him.

"Are you Molly?" He asked quietly, attempting not to startle her. She looked him over before speaking.

"Y-yeah. You said you were a reporter?" She opened the door a bit more, standing up straighter. She was taller than Sam thought, now that he could see her fully. He nodded.

"That's right. With uh... Agriculturists Anonymous." Sam mentally kicked himself for not thinking of a better name before needing it. Molly eyed him. She relaxed after a moment and stepped into the house, gesturing for Sam to enter.

"I didn't realize the agriculture here was article worthy. How did you even find out about us?" Molly sat in a rocking chair and gestured for Sam to sit across from her, on the couch.

"Oh, I saw the article about the big apple harvest and it talked about the agriculture of the town briefly." He shrugged. "My interest was piqued."

Molly fidgeted, becoming nervous when Sam mentioned the harvest.

"Do you want to start with the harvest?" Sam pried. Molly's eyes went wide.

"O-oh. The harvest. I um... I had just moved here, so I can't really tell you much about it. I just know everyone was really excited about it. Said there would be apple pies for months." Molly wrung her hands as she spoke, staring down into her lap.

"Mr. Smith died shortly after the harvest, didn't he?"

Molly's gaze darted up. "That... that's right."

"Didn't someone else die recently?" Sam looked down at his notepad, pretending to look through notes. "His son, right?"

Molly nodded.

"Mrs. Smith is the only one left to run the orchards, am I correct?"

She nodded again.

"You started working for Mr. Smith shortly before the harvest, didn't you? Shortly before he died?" Sam prodded, trying to get Molly to crack. She clearly knew something.

She shook her head, then stopped, looking down at her lap. She didn't do anything for a moment and then looked back up at Sam, her eyes watering.

"Look, I didn't know people were going to die okay! I... I was just trying to help the town out, and then things got really bad, and I didn't realize what was going on until George died and—"

"Whoa, Molly! Calm down." Sam cut her off as her words began to run together. She was breathing heavily, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Just calm down and tell me what happened." He spoke softly, sitting on the edge of the couch to be closer to Molly. She inhaled deeply and tried to wipe her tears away, but new ones just took their place.

"Look, you're not going to believe me..."

"Try me." Sam smiled softly at her. She inhaled again and started over.

"I... I can... make things happen."

Sam frowned. "Like witchcraft?" Molly shook her head.

"No, not witchcraft. I... I found this talisman," She pulled a heavy looking talisman from her shirt and stared at it for a moment before letting it drop around her neck again, outside of her shirt this time. "I was in a really bad place in my life at the time and I was... it was silly, and desperate, but I made a wish... and... it came _true_." She was wringing her hands again.

"What did you wish for?"

Molly looked embarrassed. Sam nodded to her.

"It's alright, you can tell me."

Molly sighed. "I...," She giggled nervously, wiping away tears with more success now. "I wished to win the lottery." She looked up at Sam. "The only way things were going to get better was if I had money, and lots of it. So I wished I could win, and I... I bought a ticket." She shrugged. "That was it. I won, and I moved here." She closed up again, staring into her lap.

"The town was doing bad... the last harvest was too small to support everyone, and their supply was running low..." Quietly, "So I made another wish."

"I wanted the town to have a good harvest." She looked up at Sam. "I still didn't believe the talisman worked, but in case it did I didn't want anything to be too odd, so I just wished for them to have a good apple harvest."

"They could sell the extra apples, you know? I thought it would be good for the town! And then the apples just grew, and grew... and all of the ones planted came out perfect. And everyone was happy! But then Mr. Smith died... It was tragic, but I had no reason to think I had caused it!" Her voice hitched. Sam nodded to her in encouragement again. She continued after a moment.

"But then I made a third wish, and George died..."

"What was your third wish, Molly?"

Molly didn't respond for a long time and Sam thought she had closed up for good, but finally she spoke. "It wasn't for me." She looked at Sam. "There's a girl who's very sweet and everyone likes her, but she can't find love for the life of her. So... so I knew she had a crush on George, and he loved apple pies. I made a wish that he would eat a pie, and fall in love with her." She laughed nervously. "I... I guess I was excited and nervous and I didn't think about what I was saying... the wish turned out odd, but it worked!" She frowned.

Sam's brows furrowed. "What do you mean? Odd how?"

She stared at her lap, lip quivering. "The wish didn't just work on George. It started working on everyone else too. ANYONE who ate the apple pies fell in love with whoever they saw afterward."

Molly looked up at him, brows drawn together. "I didn't mean for this to happen! And then George _died_. All because I made a silly wish..."

Sam replayed what Molly had said in his head. "The apple pie from the pie shop? Anyone who eats it?"

Molly nodded, confused. Sam groaned. Suddenly Dean's strange behaviour made sense.

"Oh... Oh no. You didn't... did you?"

Sam shook his head, forcing a smile. "No, no. I'm not much of a pie person. It... just explains the odd behaviour of the town-folk, is all."

Molly blushed. "I am so sorry... but it wears off!"

Sam's eyes focused on her. "What? It wears off? When?" He demanded, leaning further forward. Molly leaned back, a little surprised by his sudden intensity.

"Uh... I'm not entirely sure. It seems to be different with everyone... Jessica, down the street, only ate a slice and it wore off of her in a couple of days. George ate from the pie shop almost every day, and when... when he..." She cleared her throat. "He was _still_ in love."

Sam groaned again. Dean ate an _entire_ pie. If a single slice lasted a couple of days, he was looking at a couple weeks of Dean being infatuated with him.

"Alright, look Molly. I need that talisman, okay?" He held his hand out. Molly hesitated.

"People are _dying_, Molly. Even if you are trying to help people, it has a cost."

Molly broke down. She nodded. "It wasn't supposed to happen!" She sobbed out. Sam moved over, hugged her in an attempt to comfort her. He carefully took the talisman in the process.

"It's okay Molly, you didn't know. It's alright. Look, I've got the talisman, and it can't happen again, alright? It'll be okay."

She nodded as Sam stood up. He eyed the talisman, hoping that destroying it would also get rid of its effects.

As he left Molly's home, he checked his cell. Three missed calls from Dean. Sam sighed; he was only gone an hour, at most, but in hindsight leaving a note might not have been the worst idea.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam peered into the room, unable to locate Dean immediately. Since the Impala was still in the parking lot, Dean had either stepped out for a few minutes or he was in the bathroom. Sam carefully entered and slowly closed the door; if Dean was in the room, he didn't want to alert him to his presence. Apparently he failed though because when he turned around Dean was only a few feet from him. Sam backed against the door in surprise.

"Jeez Dean! You're going to give me a heart-attack." He put a hand over his heart to emphasize his point. Dean stared up at him, his brows slightly furrowed and his mouth tense.

"Where were you? I called you three times." His tone was harsh, an odd waver to his words.

"I was doing some investigating." Sam shrugged, trying to relax Dean, let him know it was no big deal.

"Without me?" Dean frowned. "What if you needed backup, huh? Why did you go alone?" He took a step forward.

"We do things alone all the time, Dean. What's up with you right now?" Sam wanted to back up more, afraid to know the answer, but that pesky door was stopping him. Dean reached out, grabbing Sam's arm by the wrist and pulling it away from his chest.

"I can't lose you, Sammy." Dean stepped forward, closing the small gap between them. Sam's heat was racing now. He arched away in reaction, his back melding against the door as if to remind him he was trapped. Dean moved quickly, leaning up onto his tip-toes in order to reach Sam's face, pressing their lips together. Sam made a noise of surprise, again trying to pull away, but he only succeeded in banging his head against the door and removing any left-over space at all to maneuver. Dean tilted his head to the side, deepening the kiss, his body pressing closer to Sam's.

Sam tried to jerk away, but he had gotten himself into a pretty bad position. Dean was gripping his one arm, and his other was trapped between their bodies and the wall next to the door. As Sam attempted to pull his wrist from Dean's grasp, the older Winchester just tightened his grip, pressing closer to Sam until the door was jammed painfully against his back. He arched away from the door to alleviate the pain, even though it meant leaning into Dean. Finally, after was seemed like far too long for anyone to kiss, Dean pulled away. His movement was slow and deliberate, his eyes locked on Sam's. Now that he had moving room, Sam found he couldn't do anything but stare down into his brother's eyes. The look they contained... no one had ever looked at him that way, not even Jess. It was the most possessive, loving, _desperate_ expression he had ever seen. Dean slowly, carefully, released Sam's wrist and took a single step back.

Sam couldn't think. He didn't remember anything that had happened before he entered the room. He couldn't even remember what he was supposed to do once he got there. All he could think of was the way Dean was looking at him right now, and the fact that his brother was the single most intense, passionate, skillfull kisser he had ever known. Sam looked down towards the ground; he couldn't stand staring into Dean's eyes anymore.

"Oh... hey." Sam held the talisman up, catching sight of it when he had averted his gaze, his voice monotone as he attempted to process what had just happened. "I found out what's been going on."

* * *

><p>Sam wanted to sleep in the Impala the night before, but Dean refused to let him out of his sight. Dean had wanted to sleep in his bed at first, but eventually they compromised with Sam staying in the room if Dean didn't try and sleep in his bed. Sam had trouble sleeping; he could feel Dean watching him all night except a few hours towards the early morning when Dean had either drifted off, or he had decided it was safe enough to catch a bit of sleep. Either way that was the only sleep Sam got as well.<p>

Their morning routine was awkward. Dean stood outside the bathroom door while Sam showered, and then just stood there once Sam was out and moving around the bedroom. He could feel Dean's eyes boring into him as he tried to gather up his clothes, and finally once he needed to actually get dressed he turned around to face Dean.

"Aren't you going to shower?" His voice came out a bit harsher than he wanted it to, but after what happened last night Sam decided he would rather be too forceful than not forceful enough. Dean stared at him unblinking, arms crossed, and just when Sam thought he was going to have to force Dean into the shower, he moved and stalked into the bathroom. Sam was unnerved that he left the door open, presumably so he could have instant access to Sam should the need arise, but at least he wasn't boring holes into his head and body any more.

He couldn't blame Dean, really. It wasn't _his_ fault. His affection for pie had finally gotten them in trouble, but at least neither of them ended up dead because of it. Sam tried to think of a scenario where Dean's love for pie could have gotten them killed; it was harder to do than he thought. He eyed the bathroom door, the shower still running. Dean loved strong; he was fierce, and protective, and would do anything for the people he cared about. Sam knew that, and had been on the receiving end of Dean's love more than once before, but it had always been a different type of love. The kind of love being directed towards Sam now was something Sam thought Dean would never be able to have, due to their line of work. He had relationships, sure, but they were always short lived. Dean never got attached. Sam wasn't sure he was able to, honestly. It might be he was afraid to, or maybe he just wasn't capable of feeling that way towards someone. Sam wondered how much of Dean was in him at the moment. Love spells were odd things, able to change entire personalities. Dean seemed to be his same self, but with a lot more... physical actions. He'd always been protective of his little brother, but now it was borderline oppressive. Sam sighed. It'd all be over in a couple weeks, tops. He'd just have to try and keep Dean off of him in the meantime.

* * *

><p>The process to destroy the talisman was simple enough, nothing Sam hadn't done before. He muttered the last words of the incantation, threw the last ingredient into the bowl, and watched the talisman go up in smoke. It shattered into pieces, the pieces slowly melting to liquid. He turned to Dean, hoping that destroying the talisman would prematurely end the spell as well. That hope was shattered when he saw the same possessive, concerned expression in Dean's eyes that he had seen earlier. Dean nodded to him, a smile gracing his lips. Sam smiled half-heartedly back; on to Plan B. Unfortunately Plan B involved staying away from his brother as much as possible, something that was hard to accomplish under normal circumstances, let alone when he was under the effect of a love spell.<p>

* * *

><p>Sam drifted off in the Impala. They had been driving for 16 hours straight, heading for a hunt clear across the country. Sam had exhausted himself the last several days worrying about Dean coming onto him in the confined, trapping space of the Impala, but he ended up being worried for nothing. Dean flirted with him the entire time, sure, but he never tried to touch him, he never even suggested anything; not to say he didn't litter his speech with innuendos though. Sam finally relaxed enough and gave in, leaning against the cool glass of the window. As darkness wrapped around him, he heard Dean whisper, "Sweet dreams, Sammy."<p>

* * *

><p>The sun streamed across Sam's face, gently lulling him awake with its warmth. He stifled a yawn, slowly opening his eyes to let them adjust to the sunlight. Or at least that was the plan. He only managed to partially open his eyes before they shot open completely, sunlight blinding him momentarily before he could adjust. Directly above him was the sleeping face of Dean. Apparently Sam had ended up lying across Dean's lap sometime during the night, probably with some help on the latter's part. He made to sit up, but Dean's arm was draped across his chest and he ended up waking the older Winchester with his movements. Sam only managed to sit up partially before Dean tightened his grip around him, halting his progress. He tilted his head back to look at Dean, to ask him to move his arm, but ended up regretting the action once Dean leaned down to kiss him. Sam turned his head away, Dean's lips landing on his jaw line instead.<p>

"Morning." Dean mumbled, his lips tickling Sam's skin. Sam inhaled, his heart pounding.

"Dean..." He whispered. Dean started kissing along his jaw, occasionally nipping. Sam jerked upward, but failed to dislodge himself from his brother's grasp, only succeeding in removing Dean from his jaw.

"You're bleeding." Dean breathed, his voice husky.

"What?" Sam stuttered out. He touched his jaw with his only free hand, his other hand wedged between his own body and Dean's. It came back with a touch of red on it; Dean's teeth much have caught his skin when Sam tried to jerk away. He gasped suddenly, a jolt going through him. Dean was licking at the wound, clearing away the blood.

"De-dean." Sam's voice hitched, his breath coming in shallow bursts.

"Hmm... yes Sammy?" Dean mumbled between licking at Sam's jaw and nipping at it. Sam seized a moment when Dean's mouth was away from him and rolled towards the dash, freeing himself from Dean's arm. He backed into the passenger door and set his knees up as a barrier between himself and his brother. He struggled to catch his breath. Dean looked at him, his eyes dark with lust.

Dean spoke after a moment, breaking the silence. "I'm sorry."

Sam blinked at him, confused.

"Wh-what?" He eyed his brother suspiciously. Dean licked the corner of his mouth, removing a small bit of Sam's blood that had made its way there. Sam stared at the spot until Dean spoke again, and then a little after.

"I've scared you." Dean's brows furrowed. He shifted, causing Sam to jerk away, arms out in a defensive posture. Dean froze partway through his readjustment, then continued very slowly, holding Sam's gaze the entire time.

"I don't want to hurt you, Sammy. Just tell me if you don't want me to do something." He cleared his throat. "I'm not very good at showing my emotions, ya know? But you're all I got. I would do _anything_ for you." His eyes turned dark. "I'd kill for you. Hell, I've _died_ for you Sammy." He shifted, uncomfortable. He turned away from Sam. "I care for you more than anyone in the world." They were silent for a while, Dean staring out the window as the sun slowly crossed the sky, Sam watching Dean's every move, arms out in front of himself so he doesn't get trapped again.

"How do you feel about me, Sam?" Dean asked, quietly. Sam almost missed it.

"What do you mean?" He didn't want to go into a conversation like this without knowing exactly what was expected of him.

Dean turned to face him again, his brows turned up, his eyes wavering. He was scared, Sam realized, and he couldn't do anything but hate himself at the moment because he knew he was about to break his brother's heart.

"You know what I mean."

Sam stared at him, unable to form words. Eventually he dropped his arms and let out a breath. Dean's mouth twitched into a frown for half a second.

"I love you Dean, you know I do, but... you're my family and I would die for you, I would turn the world upside down for you, but... I can't Dean... I'm sorry." Sam's stomach was in knots. Dean's eyes told him more than Dean himself ever could, and it killed him. Dean nodded, didn't say another word, just turned away, started the Impala, and continued their journey like nothing had happened. Sam sat on the seat, his knees a blockade between himself and his brother, until he could find the energy to turn away, to situate himself proper. As he clicked the belt into place he caught Dean looking at him, but he had already turned away again by the time Sam looked up.


	4. Chapter 4

It had been nine days. Nine days since Dean came under the influence of a love spell that made him fall in love with his own brother. Sam had rejected him two days ago, broke his own brothers heart. They had barely talked since then, but Sam often caught Dean staring at him; love, lust, distress, anger. Dean hadn't tried anything since Sam told him no; he kept his distance, at least with his body. His gaze bore holes into Sam that were far more distressing than any physical action Dean had attempted or executed. The gazes linger, the feelings burned, and no matter how much Sam fidgeted, or moved away, he could still feel Dean's gaze, penetrating his flesh, embedding itself into his very pores.

They were currently hunting down a pair of werewolves on the east coast. Dean had found the location of one, but that meant the other was still missing. Sam was trying to locate the second one while Dean had gone after the first one, leaving Sam with specific instructions to not leave the hotel. It was a simple hunt. Break down door. Shoot werewolf in heart with silver bullet. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am. But it was never that simple, was it? While Dean had found the location of the first one, Sam had found the location of the second one. And unfortunately for Dean, the second one and the first one happened to travel together. He was walking into a trap, and he had no clue.

Sam grabbed his supplies as fast as he could, darted out the door, and hotwired the first car he could find. Screw Dean's instructions.

* * *

><p>Sam moved through the warehouse as fast as he could while still being quiet, trying to avoid being ambushed himself. There was some sort of commotion going on in a room nearby; Sam just had to get to it.<p>

He finally found the room all the noise had been coming from, carefully peering in. It was dark, but there was a flashlight on the ground not too far in, clear indicator Dean had been there. The sound of flesh and bone hitting flesh and bone, followed by a pained groan and a thud alerted Sam to where the occupants of the room were. He slowly crept through the doorway, being careful to stay away from the occupants. One was most certainly Dean, likely the one getting the crap beat out of him at the moment. Sam's heart pounded wildly in his chest, but he was no good to either of them if he ran in half cocked. He got to the flashlight and steadied himself. Either he had walked into a trap as well, or the werewolf was too preoccupied with Dean to bother with him. For now, he had the chance to grab the flashlight, point it towards the occupants, and hopefully have enough time and aim to shoot the werewolf dead. Another grunt from one of the occupants, and a muttered word, just two syllables.

"_Sammy..._"

Sam grabbed the flashlight. Its beam caught the bloodied face and body of Dean before it found the werewolf. Sam shot once, but he didn't miss. The werewolf went down and Sam was at Dean's side before the werewolf could hit the ground.

"DEAN!" His hands were all over his brother, checking his wounds, seeing how much of the blood was seeping from wounds and how much was just spread around. He clutched Dean's face, pressing their foreheads together.

"Dean, Dean... Say something. Speak to me, Dean. Come on dammit!" His voice was panicked, getting louder the longer he didn't get a response. Suddenly Dean coughed, blood displacing from inside his mouth to the concrete floor he was lying on.

"Oh god, Dean..." Sam helped Dean into a semi-upright position. He was mainly lying against Sam, too weak and tired to support himself.

"Hey Sammy..." He grinned, his mouth covered in blood, his voice weak.

"Don't talk... Let's just get you out of here." Sam started to stand, trying to take Dean with him, but his brother groaned in pain and didn't appear to be willing to follow him into a vertical position.

"Dean?" Sam knelt back down again, carefully pulling Dean back up against him for support. Dean was wheezing, pained groans coming between shallow breaths. He tried to reach a hand up to Sam, but couldn't muster the energy. Sam gingerly grabbed his hand and entwined their fingers.

"I'm here for you, Dean. I'm not going to let you die." Sam's voice hitched.

"Heh... Not sure you can do much about that, Sammy... I just want to sleep..." Dean leaned into his brother, letting his eyes drift shut. Sam shook him gently.

"You're not going to sleep on me. Come on Dean, just stay with me a bit longer." Sam bit back tears. He carefully moved Dean back onto the concrete floor, whispering apologies as Dean made noises of distress. As soon as Dean was safely on the ground, Sam took his jacket off as quickly as possible, carefully propping it under Dean's head. He paused for a moment, the only noise his heavy panicked breathing and, barely audible, Dean's shallow wheezing.

"Dean? Just stay awake for a few more minutes, okay? I have to get supplies from the car... just... don't you die on me, you understand?" He waited for a response.

"DEAN." Panicked.

"Hm... don't die... got it..." Dean mumbled out slowly, titling his head slightly towards Sam's voice, his eyes still closed with no sign of wanting to open any time soon. Sam bolted up and ran to the Impala as fast as he could. He made it back to Dean out of breath, heart pounding heavy in his chest. He knelt down, his eyes wide with fear. In the dark warehouse, nothing but a damaged flashlight for illumination, Dean appeared to be completely still. Sam slowly put a hand on Dean's chest. Several moments passed before he felt a heartbeat. The flood of relief made him ill, light headed. He gently touched Dean's shoulder.

"Dean, I'm here, I'm not going anywhere. Just stay with me, alright?"

A soft vocalization from Dean was all he got, but it was enough. Dean was still conscious at least. Sam began to carefully strip the damaged articles of clothing from his brother. The more layers he took off, the larger the lump in his throat became. Dean was bruised and bloodied head to toe. The werewolf had no intention of turning him. It wanted him dead, painfully and slowly, plain and simple. Sam assumed Dean had ganked the first werewolf and the other was out for revenge. If the werewolf he shot wasn't already dead, Sam would be making it wish it were right now.

"I'm sorry Dean, this is going to hurt... just bear with me."

Dean mumbled something, but it was too quiet for Sam to hear. He leaned in as Dean attempted to repeat himself. Sam only caught the last part of whatever Dean was saying. He leaned in further. Dean's lips brushed against his cheek, startling him. He pulled back. Dean's brows furrowed ever so slightly, his mouth making motions but no words coming out. Sam leaned closer to his brother again.

"_...want a good last memory..._" Dean finally managed to get out. Sam pulled back, like he had been stung.

"You aren't dying Dean. So don't act like you are." Sam choked back tears. He _wasn't_ going to let his brother die. It wasn't an option. Dean shook his head slightly, his mouth motioning again. Sam leaned back down, tears welling in his eyes.

"_Please Sammy..._" His voice broke in and out, but Sam heard enough. He nodded.

"You're still not dying on me, dammit..." Sam tilted his head, his lips brushing against Dean's. He pushed against his brother gently. Dean kissed him back as best he could, his own lips barely moving against Sam's. Sam clenched his eyes shut, pushing harder against Dean's mouth, earning him a slightly pained appreciative noise. Sam pulled back slowly, his mouth covered in Dean's blood and his cheeks wet from his tears. Dean smiled weakly.

"_...love you, Sammy..._" He trailed off, drifting asleep. Sam's breath hitched, but Dean was still breathing, the only thing Sam cared about at the moment, so he set about the long process of cleaning, stitching, and dressing Dean's many wounds. Sam gently prodded at bruises and vulnerable areas, checking for damaged bones and organs.

He worked until he finally finished as the sun began to rise, collapsing next to his brother, emotionally drained.

"_I love you too, Dean..._" He whispered into Dean's ear before succumbing to sleep.

* * *

><p>The sun shone through the many broken pieces of the roof in the warehouse, some eventually landing on the Winchester brothers. Sam was roused awake as the sun heated his body, jolting into full alertness when he remembered what situation he was in. Dean still lay next to him, his body covered in bandages and bruises and blood. Sam leaned down, pressing his cheek to Dean's chest; a steady heartbeat greeted him, allowing him to release the breath he didn't realize he was holding. He leaned back, unable to handle anything other than watching his brother breathe, up down up down, until finally Dean started to rouse as well. He groaned, bit back a whimper, and peeled his eyelids apart, grimacing as the sunlight invaded his pupils. He tried to sit up but failed fairly spectacularly at it. Cold, trembling hands landed on his back and side, helping him sit up.<p>

"Sam?" Dean tried to turn to see his brother better, but the action turned out to be a bad idea and he groaned in pain. Sam darted into view, his face etched with concern. Dean looked down at Sam's mouth, his eyes drawn by the smeared blood there. His eyes widened slightly, turning away and leaving Sam unable to read his expression.

"Dean? How do you feel? You can sit up on your own, that's always a good sign." Sam leaned toward Dean again.

"Yeah, doing peachy. Alright let's get out of this warehouse." Dean looked around, avoiding Sam's eyes. "Where are my clothes? It's freezing in here..."

Sam grabbed his jacket that Dean had used as a pillow and handed it to him.

"Sorry, this is all there is until we get back to the car. Your clothes were ruined. Um... they're over there." Sam pointed to the pile of Dean's clothes that looked more like a pile of rags. Dean grimaced, groaning as he eyed the mess.

"Ah man... I liked that shirt." He slowly got to his feet, shrugging Sam's help off as he bit back groans of pain.

"Let's just get out of here, place is making me sick..." Dean grimaced at the two werewolf corpses nearby. Sam turned, finally getting to see the second one, a male to the female he had killed.

* * *

><p>Sam hovered near his brother, leaning against the Impala as Dean slowly re-dressed. He bitched and moaned the entire time, but refused help from Sam every time he asked if he needed help. Eventually he was fully dressed, leather jacket and all, and stumbled around the side of the Impala. He stopped mid-way to the front door, silent for several moments.<p>

"Hey Sammy." He tossed the keys across the car without looking, knowing Sam was already paying attention. Sam caught the keys easily.

"You drive." Dean slowly turned around and stumbled back around the car. Sam intercepted him and put an arm around his waist, helping him to the passenger side.

"I'm not an invalid, I _can_ get into the car by myself, _mother_." Dean attempted to resist but was too weak to actually fight Sam off. Sam didn't leave his side until he was situated in the Impala.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Sam shut the door and jogged around to the driver side. As he started the car he glanced over at Dean. The older Winchester was staring out the window, learning against the door like it was the only way he could stay upright. It was pretty obvious that he wasn't under the influence of the love spell anymore, however it seemed he still remembered what occurred while he _was_ under the influence. Sam frowned, concerned about the possible damage done to their relationship. He faced ahead, easing the Impala out of the dirt lot of the warehouse.

* * *

><p>Sam pulled into the most back road, unknown motel he could find. The old man behind the counter hardly seemed to care about him. He checked Sam in, gave him his key, and shuffled back to the employee room behind the counter with nary a word.<p>

Dean was passed out in the passenger seat, still leaning against the window. Sam didn't think he was going to be able to get him out without waking him, so he crawled back into the Impala through the driver side and gently shook Dean by the shoulder. Dean groaned, rolling over towards Sam's touch. His eyes cracked open ever so slightly.

"Sam?" His eyebrows furrowed. Sam smiled at him.

"Yeah. Come on, I got us a room." Sam crawled back out of the Impala and jogged around to the other side of the car as Dean was groggily climbing out. Sam helped stabilize him and led him to the room, carefully opening the door so he could maintain his hold on Dean in the process.

Once in the room, Dean gingerly sat down on the closest bed, grimacing the entire time.

"Man, I feel like I've been run over by a truck." He slowly peeled off his shirt, Sam on the standby in case he needed him. Dean looked down at his torso after the shirt was off.

"Ah man..." He poked at a particularly nasty bruise, hissing at the sensation it caused. "Bitch broke my rib..." He mumbled, earning a chuckle from Sam.

"What, you think this is funny?" Dean glared at him. Sam shook his head.

"No, not at all." He sobered up. "I... I'm just glad to have your old self back." They locked eyes for several moments, neither wanting to be the first to bring up recent events. Dean broke the gaze first.

"Yeah... glad to be back, Sammy..." He stood up slightly too fast, tried to hide the pained expression on his face, but Sam saw it anyway. "I'm gonna try and take a shower." He gestured at himself. "See if I can get some of this filth off, feel a little more human."

Sam nodded at him, brows furrowed, watching Dean like a hawk as he hobbled to the bathroom. After his brother was out of sight, Sam moved to the bed closest to the bathroom and sat on the nearest edge, listening over the water. Dean's pained noises, bit back sobs and groans, pierced Sam like no knife ever could. He fought back the urge to invade the bathroom and comfort Dean, and eventually the water shut off. Several minutes later Dean slowly exited the bathroom wearing just his jeans. Sam watched his every move as he made his way to the other bed and slowly crawled into it.

"I'm gonna hit the hay. Night Sam." Dean called over his shoulder, his voice tense, pained. He didn't last very long on his side before he rolled onto his back, and then onto his other side, before returning to his back again. Sam got up and dug around in one of their bags, pulling out a bottle of pain killers. He sat on the edge of the bed opposite Dean and held out several pills. Dean laughed bitterly.

"Not sure I can sit back up to swallow those, Sammy."

Sam scooted closer on the bed, carefully wedging an arm under Dean's shoulders.

"Ready?" He asked softly. Dean nodded and the two of them managed to get him upright. Sam handed him the pills, Dean's hand warm and slightly wet from his shower, and a glass of water. Dean handed the glass back to Sam once he was finished, expected him to go back to his own bed, but instead Sam just held his gaze, his eyes questioning.

"No chick-flick moments, remember?" Dean finally said, just something to break the increasingly awkward silence.

"Are... are we going to talk about this?" Sam said a bit too loudly for both of their liking. Dean turned away, trying to figure out how to lie back down without hurting himself.

"About what?" He made to lie down, decided he didn't like how it felt, and sat back up. He contemplated other methods.

Sam sighed. "You know what, Dean." Sam scooted away slightly, whispered "You were under some spell, but I wasn't... and I..." He cleared his throat, louder "I want to make sure we're okay." Sam stared at the bedspread, Dean stared at the hideous curtains over the under-insulated window.

Eventually Dean said, "Yeah, Sammy. We're okay."

Sam looked up, but Dean was still facing away so he couldn't read his face. His voice was weary, but he seemed honest. Sam just nodded, even though Dean couldn't see it, and made to get up.

"Hey Sammy?" Dean asked softly. Sam stopped, right on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah Dean?" He waited for Dean to finish his thought, but instead he just sat there, rocking back and forth almost unnoticeably. Sam got the hint and crawled back across the bed, putting an arm around Dean to help ease him back down into a lying position. Sam hovered over his brother, his brows furrowed, eventually catching Dean's gaze once he realized Sam wasn't moving away after helping him lie back down. His gaze travelled to Sam's mouth, where traces of Dean's blood still remained since Sam was clearly more concerned with getting his brother into a safe location to recover than making sure all of said brother's blood was off of his face. Dean's brows furrowed as he recalled some of the events of the last week. His eyes trailed down Sam's jaw to the still barely visible nick he had left there.

Sam finally made to move away, but Dean's arm darted out, grabbing him by the wrist. He grimaced at the pain it caused, but the pain pills were starting to kick in so it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Sam immediately turned mother hen at Dean's expression and reached for the pain pills he had set on the night table, ready to hand over some more. Dean tugged on Sam's wrist, pulling his attention back. He shook his head at Sam.

"_Stay..._" He whispered, barely audible. Sam gave him a questioning look, brows furrowed. Dean tugged on his wrist again, and finally Sam gave in. He gently removed Dean's hand from his wrist, shooting him a reassuring look when he tried to resist, and pulled the blanket up to crawl under. He scooted closer to Dean, lying side by side on their backs, hips and legs pressing against one another. Dean's hand sought out Sam's under the blanket, their fingers entwining. Finally Sam believed Dean when he said they were going to be alright.

"You have cold hands..." Dean mumbled, displeased, as he readjusted his fingers around Sam's. The younger Winchester chuckled. They were going to be just fine.


End file.
